


Never Keep a Dwarf Indoors (Unless You Want to Get Trampled on His Way Out)

by HallsofStone2941



Series: Bag End's Boisterous Bagginses [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canonical Character Death, Dwarves in the Shire, Fluff, Humor, Immature Dwarves, Minor Character Death, Multi, One Big Happy Family, bit of angst, character death - mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallsofStone2941/pseuds/HallsofStone2941
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Dwarves for 30 years does NOT mean Bilbo's used to them - especially when cabin fever rolls around. They are quite well aware that they act like children, but still think it's a good idea to add one more to their already large family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Keep a Dwarf Indoors (Unless You Want to Get Trampled on His Way Out)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Frodo Comes to Live at Bag End and morphed into this tangent with a little Frodo stuff at the end.

"FiliandKili, _put that back_ _right now_ , or so HELP me, Eru--Gimli, I will tell your mother on you, I SWEAR--Nori, I _saw_ that, now kindly return it to where it belongs. You do realize that you can't steal something that's already--DWALIN FUNDINSON BAGGINS!" The Dwarf in question glances sheepishly at Bilbo, the freshly-baked cookie hanging halfway out of his mouth and a few crumbs already dotting his beard. "Honestly, the women leave for ONE DAY and you all are reduced to acting like naughty fauntlings!"

"Not all of them," Thorin says, coming up behind him and wrapping his large, hairy arms snugly around Bilbo's waist. Bilbo feels warm breath on his neck as a familiar sharp nose nuzzles at the skin beneath his ear. "Some of them are acting like adults. Proper adults that do adult things such as loving their husbands and mentioning the currently empty and very tempting bed just down the hall-"

Bilbo smacks his arm. "Thorin!" he grumbles. "I am _trying_ to get _your_ kin to behave, and you whispering lascivious nonsense in my ears isn't helping."

"Is that so?" Thorin hums, tightening his arms and tracing the tip of his nose along the shell of Bilbo's rather sensitive ear. "And pray tell me, husband mine, exactly how distracting it is." He pulls Bilbo even closer, flush against his chest and...other areas. A hand sneaks towards Bilbo's cloth-covered collarbone. "How distracting would it be, I wonder, to have you here as I would like? Do you think they would notice, or simply be grateful that-"

"KILI!" Bilbo shrieks. His nephew is currently trying to balance one of the last of his mother's West Farthing, antique, _delicate_ pottery on his elbow. Kili freezes, and the fragile dish would have shattered on the ground if not for Ori's fast reflexes. The ex-Prince's eyes are wide and staring at his fuming uncle, and the other Dwarves have halted in their various mischievous shenanigans. Bilbo pulls out of Thorin's embrace and spins around, poking a finger into the Dwarf's chest. "Control your Mahal-damned nephews, or I  _will_ lock them in the wine cellar and let them get pass-out drunk." Thorin pales slightly at that, remembering the last time Fili and Kili got a hold of Bilbo's Dorwinion wine. "And," Bilbo hisses, leaning closer. "As for _your_ supposedly adult behavior, have you washed those bloody dishes like you said you would?"

Thorin's expression is caught between the sly look he had started to give Bilbo and that all-too-familiar, runs-in-the-family, hand-in-the-proverbial (or literal)-cookie-jar expression of guilt. Bilbo fixes his husband with a stern glare, and opens his mouth for a scolding-

When a crash comes from the dining room, followed by a large amount of cursing in Westron and Khuzdul. Bilbo is getting quite fed up with his gaggle of _children_ , and is ready to order each and every Yavanna-cursed Dwarf out _now_.

" _What_ , in _Durin's name_ , is going on?" The words are loud, crystal clear, and sound like the bells of Valinor to Bilbo's poor soul. Just as his shoulders slump in relief, all the Dwarves fall ominously and utterly silent. Dwalin still has a cookie hanging out of his mouth, Thorin's hands are raised halfway in supplication, and Nori very carefully returns the silver carving of Smaug to the mantel. All eyes are trained on the entrance to Bag End, where three Dwarrowdams, laden with groceries, tools, and cloth, stand imposingly on the doormat.

The first steps forward, her keen blue eyes immediately moving to her brother, then to Dwalin, whose mouth opens enough to drop the cookie into his hand before closing. Fili and Kili stand at attention, hands behind their backs, heads up, eyes facing forward but staring at nothing in particular.

The other two Dwarrowdams follow her, their soft brown eyes dangerously sharp as they eye the guilt-ridden expressions of their men. Finally, all three sets of eyes turn to Bilbo.

"It's cabin fever, I'm afraid." Bilbo sighs, still quite irate. "They've been bouncing off the walls - the adults worse than the children." Bombur's children, that is, from whom Bilbo has not heard a peep over the past hour.

"I set 'em to the playroom," Bofur offers, his head appearing from the dining room doorway. He looks nervous, and the fleeting glance in Bilbo's direction makes the Hobbit suspect that something _valuable_ has been destroyed - though what on Arda could still be left, he does not know.

Dis nods, still assessing the men in the room. "Is that so? Well, you wouldn't be the only ones. The Hobbits have seemingly lost their fear of the water, and the river is covered in rafts." She turns her gaze to her rather distraught brother-in-law. "Bilbo, perhaps your kinsmen have the right of it. Might it be best if Bag End - and everyone in it - has a chance to get some fresh air?"

Bilbo ruffles his hair. "Alright, everybody out. Go to the lake, or something. Take the children, have a picnic, enjoy the sun, I don't care. Dis is right; Bag End has had too many people in it for too long."

Normally Bilbo does not make edicts, but right now he needs _space_. Yes, Thorin, you too, he orders the stubborn ex-King, and Dis drags her brother away while Dorla and Gurtel go to the playroom to gather the children. Bombur appears long enough to harness Dwalin and Dori in helping him gather the food, and the other Dwarves engage in various tasks to aid in their departure. In ten minutes, Bilbo is waving everyone out the door, with the women's promises that they will make sure the others behave.

The first thing Bilbo does is open the windows, allowing the fresh, somewhat chill breeze to clear away the scent of twenty-some-odd Dwarves that have been forced together during the last, rather rough few weeks of winter. He sets about removing various bits of clothing and items that have been carelessly draped around, humming to himself as the scents of budding leaves and blooming flowers make him feel thirty years younger.

He is so immersed in the rhythm of his cleaning that he misses the knock on his door the first time it comes. When he answers it on the second round, Hamfast Gamgee stands in front of his door, wringing his hat nervously and looking as if he is about the cry. Forty-five minutes, three cups of tea, and a dozen or so biscuits later, Bilbo thanks Gamgee for telling him the news.

The rest of his cleaning is somewhat subdued, and his mind whirls with the information he has received. The Dwarves come just as he finishes, with the sun setting the clouds ablaze with orange hues, and the children are quickly placed in their beds, already asleep from the day's adventures.

"What is it, Bilbo?" Dorla, Bombur's wife, asks over dinner. Bilbo puts his spoon down and looks at his mostly uneaten dinner.

"My cousin, Drogo and Primula, had a boating accident today," Bilbo says solemnly. The Dwarves gasp - their closest Baggins relatives are dear friends of theirs, and their son, Frodo, is well loved by all the inhabitants of Bag End.

"Bilbo?" Kili asks, lips already wobbling.

"I'm afraid they didn't make it." Bilbo finishes quietly.

He is quite grateful for the comforting arm that Thorin wraps around him, pulling him into the broad, warm, safe chest of his husband. He lets his head rest there, listening to the sturdy heartbeat.

"What of the lad?" Gloin asks.

"Alive," Bilbo replies, seeing the shoulders of the people around him relax infinitesimally. _Dwarves and their children_ , he thinks, half-fond, half-sad. "He wasn't on the raft when it tipped. He'll be staying in Brandy Hall. They'll take good care of him there."

Gurtel's head jerks up slightly. "Brandy Hall? Where there are thirty curly-haired faunts running around at once? He's been an only child all his life, he'll be lost in that crowd!"

Before Bilbo can say anything, Gloin continues his wife's line of thought. "Aye, he should be brought here, where he'll have no shortage of people to look after him."

Now, of course, such a statement sets the table off. Almost everyone is chattering excitedly (Fili, Kili, Gimli, and Ori suspiciously), and even Balin and Dis have their heads together. Thorin's arm stays wrapped around Bilbo, but the Hobbit can feel his jaw moving as he joins the conversation.

"The children are sleeping, you morons," Dori growls eventually, and everyone falls silent. Bilbo takes the opportunity to speak.

"Even if we were granted permission to take Frodo in, which we won't be, and even if that was something I was considering, which I wasn't, there is plenty of care at Brandy Hall, where he will be raised like a _proper Hobbit_."

Bilbo cringes just as the words come out of his mouth, and watches as the Dwarves begin arguing again, though at a lower volume.

"Do you really think we could not raise him?" Thorin murmurs in his ear. Bilbo does not reply.

"Look at them, Bilbo. You've lived with these Dwarves for almost thirty years. Do you truly believe that they would not be the best family that Frodo could ask for?"

Bilbo watches the Dwarves - his Dwarves, his Bagginses. He can imagine Fili and Kili pulling Frodo into all sorts of pranks (something they already do, if he is quite honest). He can imagine Oin patching up every wounded knee, can imagine Balin's patient tutelage, Dwalin attempting to teach Frodo how to fight, and Bofur's inappropriate jokes. Yes, Bilbo thinks. They would make the most lovely family, brothers and cousins and uncles and grandfathers and aunts.

He hears Nori mutter, "who needs permission? We'll just take him," and decides to stand. The table falls silent.

"Is everyone agreed that we would like Frodo to live here?" he asks. Fervent nods and growled Khuzdul, Bifur's Igleshmek and Balin's twinkle, Dwalin's not-so-subtle smile beneath his beard, mirrored by Dis own twitching braids.

"Let me make this clear," he stresses. "There will be no threatening, no bribing, no manhandling," here he glares at Thorin, "and no _stealing_ of _Hobbits_. If we are to adopt Frodo," quiet cheers echo around the table, "then we will do it the legal, Hobbit way." The Dwarves nod their assent, and Bilbo takes a deep breath.

"Well then. I guess we'd better prepare for a new family member."

**Author's Note:**

> According to TORN, Frodo's parents died when he was 12, and he stayed in Brandy Hall until he was 21, when Bilbo adopted him. I played with canon, sue me :)
> 
> Also, there will be more, but probably not until a large bout of inspiration strikes. It might be a while, fair warning.


End file.
